Jo Linsdell has returned to the Internet at full-speed. Her re-launch of Writers and Authors http://writersandauthors.blogspot.com/ is seeing wonderful changes. Just look at what you can find there:

Links to sites for writers

Link to dictionaries, thesaurus, idioms, etc...

Writer competitions

Tips and advice from people in the industry (e.g. writers, publishers, editors, etc...)

Upcoming events

Book reviews

Writing prompts

The site will continue to grow and is a wonderful resource for writers. More features are being added regularly, including author interviews. This site promises to be not only a resource for those wishing to hone their craft, but also a place for promotion of author's work.

Tomorrow, Jo stops by to answer some questions for us. Please stop by, read and ask your own questions! For today, let's find out just who Jo Linsdell is.

Jo Linsdell

Born in Gillingham, Kent (UK) in September 1980. Married name Joanne Denise Feliciani. She uses her maiden name, Linsdell, as her pen name. Having passed 10 GCSE’s, she went on to study Business Studies, History and Art A-Levels at Yateley 6th Form. She left England and moved to Rome, Italy in June 2001, where she now lives with her Italian husband and their baby son. She has had various jobs including working in hostels, being a tour guide and teaching English as a foreign language. She now works full-time as a freelance writer. She writes regularly for various websites, newspapers and magazines. Her books, Italian for tourists and A guide to weddings in Italy plus her ebooks; Il dolce Natale: Christmastime in Italy, Some risks are worth taking, INSIDE.OUT, La Befana and The Patron Saint of Lovers are all available to buy at www.lulu.com . Visit her at http://jolinsdell.tripod.com or http://www.lulu.com/jolinsdell or http://www.myspace.com/jolinsdell

This is what Rosemary Chaulk has to say about Nissitissit Witch on her website:

NISSITISSIT WITCH has been quite a challenge on many levels and even approaching the surreal. One morning, as I prepared to go out and deliver the last few books of my first shipment, I got up to leave and knocked over a glass of water above the keyboard, and it ran down onto the keyboard. I wiped things up and turned the keyboard over to dry. When I came back home and turned my computer on, an email from my publicist was the first thing to come up. I opened it, read it and when I touched the keyboard to reply, the computer went nuts with programs and numbers flashing up on the screen. I did a hard shutdown and took the batteries out of the keyboard.

Now, the above incident seems insignificant, but the very same glass full of iced coffee was in the same spot a year ago when I started doing research. I had all the research in the spot where the keyboard was this morning. After reading the research a year ago, I uttered to myself, "I don't think there even was a witch." When I said it, the iced coffee spilled, ran down onto the area for the keyboard and completely surrounded the research materials going right up to the edge on all four sides touching the old newspapers, yet when I picked up the news clippings they were completely dry. Not a speck of iced coffee. First, I was stunned that somehow the coffee spilled, and I did not react quickly so the stuff sat there a moment. Then thinking the stack was completely ruined, I was upset as I had just borrowed the stuff. Then I was amazed to find the stuff all completely dry. So, I said out load "Okay, you do exist."

From that day forward, I was mesmerized. I had a character in mind prior to doing research, and that character jumped right out of the research. She was a spot-on fit for the main character that I had envisioned, frighteningly close. From then on, the book consumed me. One Thursday afternoon, I began typing and then suddenly it was Tuesday morning, and I had typed almost four days straight and only stopping for fitful two-hour naps, which were filled with vivid dreams about North Village.

That's how it all happened, and how I find myself with books flying off the shelf as though self-propelled. Seems I'm not alone in my interest of The Nissitissit Witch!

What People are saying

A book you can't put down, one minute you are sitting on the edge of your seat then you fall off, rest and befor eyou know it, you are still reading and its the next day. The chrarcters are so real and the eerie feeling you feel is so real. --Barbara

The mystery, history and the story of Sarah which comes to life, you can actually see it play out before your eyes and leave you craving for more. --Cheryl

3. Please tell us what you are most passionate about outside of writing.

Helping fight for the rights of the working person against the abuse of them by the government.

4. Do you have any pets? If so, introduce us to them.

No

5. What is your most precious memory?

My son

Rosemary Chaulk the writer:

6. Can you describe the time you realized you were indeed a "real" writer?

Three years ago was when I started writing for real.

7. What is going on with your writing these days?

Marketing Nissitissit Witch and finish writing J1T (just one tear)

8. What are your future goals for your writing?

To write a bestseller and make the world cry.

9. Can you describe a typical writing day for you?

I can only write during the winter months when I can take time off from land survey.

10. Why do you write?

I want to take my life's experience both good and bad and feed them back to the world. I want to touch the hearts of people and move them forever. I want to leave my readers better off than they were before.

11. What writer most inspires you? Why?

Robert A. Heinlein. His book Stranger in a strange land helped show me the follow of modern religions.

12. How do you define your writing?

Straight from the heart. Raw and emotional.

13. In one sentence-what do you want people to say about your writing in fifty years?

Wow

Rosemary Chaulk the details:

14. Can you tell us where to find more information on you? Website? Blog?

There are some books that seem to have events connected with them that are unexplainable. My book, Storm, was surrounded by many of these so-called "coincidences". The next couple of days, we will be exploring the debut novel of Rosemary Chaulk, Nissitissit Witch. This is another one of those books that has brought about many unexplained events. Not only the book, but the area portrayed within its pages has long been associated with such events. Enjoy our brief adventure!

Perfect Paperback: 317 pages

ISBN: 98-1-4389-1713-9(SC)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-1714-6 *NC)

Pre Order now - books will be shipped Oct 5.

Mail check or money order to Rosemary Chaulk

PO Box 406

West Groton, MA 01472

About the Author:I was born under the sign of the bull, forever connected to the earth. As far back as I can remember I have spent as much time as possible outside.When I was younger I played outdoors, later in life I worked outdoors. Up until the last few winters I have worked outside year round doing land survey. Hiking in the White Mountains, canoeing in the Alagash. It is this constant contact with the earth which drew me to North Village.

Can land be cursed or is it just the tortured souls who roam it who are cursed? If man disappeared would the land still be cursed? North Village caught my attention because of the curse of the witch. In doing my research I found that North Village was doomed long before the witches ever came.

Nissistissit Witch

My book, Nissitissit Witch suggests that the original curse on the valley was from the Indians who were slaughtered when the invading white settlers took the Nissitissit. We as victors wrote the history, but what about the history of those who came before us, whatabout the troubled Indian spirits?While telling tales of Indian Spirits and witches I use this platform for my true message, which is pollution.We took America from the natives and the first thing we did was to decimate the woods, pollute the rivers and torture the land for anything we could take for profit. We dammed the rivers and killed the salmon.During the Eighteen hundreds the Nissitissit was no different than anyother river. During that time our rivers were the recipient of every waste product and poison produced. North village is located ina narrow valley that concentrates the flow from about forty thousandacres of land upstream.

There were many little villages along the Nissitissit and any toxins they wanted to dispose of was dumped into the river.Right in North Village I found that they made felt and had a velvet shop.

The process of making felt uses mercurous oxide. Velvet cloths use felt in the collars and the colors in the velvets were also very toxic.Long-term exposure to mercury causes death by fits of insanity and people died in 'an unusual way'.Nissitissit Witch takes all of these factors and spins a fictionalentertaining yarn that has lots of history of the area spun into a tall tale.

DescriptionThe Nissitissit Witch captures the essence of a bygone era and exemplifies how narrow-mindedness and ignorance can lead to tragedy and regret. Following rumors of witchcraft, curses, and the work of the Devil, panic and hysteria force a community to retreat and ultimately vanish. Set in the town of North Village (which is now Pepperell, Massachusetts) the story begins in the late nineteenth century and, with the author's clever use of flashbacks, takes the reader further back in time. Ailing, old-timer Ebb recounts painful memories from both the Civil War, and his childhood, trying to make sense of the trauma in his life. His return home is bittersweet, as he is controlled by an undeniable desire to enter the river's mist and embark upon a remarkable, spiritual journey.

3. Please tell us what you are most passionate about outside of writing.

Photography, Cinema, Family.

4. Do you have any pets? If so, introduce us to them.

No but I love animals.

5. What is your most precious memory?

Seeing my son for the very first time.

6. What is your most embarrassing memory?

Standing in from of my 4th grade class with a drippy nose and without a tissue.

7. If you weren't a writer, what would you be doing with your life?

Fundraising

Anna Maria Preziothe writer:

8. Can you describe the time you realized you were indeed a "real" writer?

While studying journalism in college, my first English class project involved writing poetry that I enjoyed.

9. What is going on with your writing these days?

I write every day and as much as I can.

10. What are your future goals for your writing?

I would like to do public speaking, consultations, radio shows, and TV shows to bring about awareness of how ghosts can be released and how to alleviate the fear around the subject of spirits, ghosts and entities as well as to introduce people to the positive effects of Feng Shui.

11. Can you describe a typical writing day for you?

There is nothing typical about a writing day. Inspiration comes in many forms.

Sometimes my book ideas come to me in a dream. Sometimes they come to me in my meditations. I'm blessed with inspiration.

12. Why do you write?

Writing for me is cathartic.

I write to inspire, to heal, to give of myself, my knowledge and my wisdom.

I write to enjoy wonderful words on paper. I write to teach. I write to be heard.

I write to give something to someone who needs it. I write because the imagination gives us new experiences to pass on to others and old stories, traditions, cultures, experiences to hand down to generations to come so that they can be preserved. Writing allows me to tell my innermost part of me in the form of a character or a story. Writing is creating, imagining, dreaming. What would be do if we could not imagine, dream or create?

13. What writer most inspires you? Why?

Writers who inspire me are so many from Aristotle, Plato and Socrates to Tom Clancy, Ernest Hemingway and Anne Frank. The authors who inspire are those who give a bit of themselves as they write, fertile with imagination and spirit.

14. How do you define your writing?

Simplistic, Daring and Provocative in a very understandable way...I want to provoke your thinking and I want you to open your mind and your heart when you read my works.

15. In one sentence-what do you want people to say about your writing in fifty years?

She was ahead of her time.

Art and Science do mingle, mix and match...

Anna Maria Prezio was an innovator...

Anna Maria Prezio the details:

16. Can you tell us where to find more information on you? Website? Blog?

I felt my warm blanket being pulled off me and, suddenly, a hurtful slap on my behind. It startled me awake. I was a terrified 6-year-old. It was All Saint’s Eve in a small village town in Italy. Everyone invited the spirits of their dead relatives to visit them. Glasses of wine and plates of food were left for visiting spirits. My small bed was placed in the dining room where my family members thought the spirits would enter. They even left the front door open for them, as this was the custom. I was afraid, but told no one. I remained very still, but my heart was racing and the seemingly large, cold hand that struck me with only one blow never returned.

It was not a dream and it was not imagined. To this day, I have told only a few people. They wanted to comfort me, so they made excuses. They would say, “It was a prank” or “Maybe it was a joke by your siblings.” One person even said, “You may have had a very active imagination then.” After all, it was Halloween night. As a young child remembers things in their past, some things are unforgettable. This was one of those incidents. Why would I repeat anything that may have been mocked or misconstrued by the people who loved me? I never mentioned it again … until now. It was a spirit.

My grandfather used to tell me ghost stories when I was a little girl. Story telling was the only entertainment there was in that small village in southern Italy. No television. No radio. And hardly any books to read to keep our active minds occupied. At the end of the day, we would gather around the brasciere, a large container made from brass or copper, filled with coal for warmth and heat during cold winter months. It was the only heater, except for our rustic fireplace. We would gather around the brasciere and listen to the stories being told. Some were folklore and others were thought to be real. Very scary for a young imagination to absorb. My grandfather, Vincenzo, was the best at telling spooky stories. Every sound was amplified. He became animated. At the end of the story it was hard to fall asleep.

Our house was a large two-story. It was built by my grandparents, Mamma’s mother and father. They lived downstairs. This is where I slept, because it was too crowded on the second floor. We were a large family of seven. I actually enjoyed having the entire dining room to myself and I didn’t have to share a bed with any of my sisters. I felt like a princess. My grandparents gave me lots of attention. Can’t say I didn’t like it.

This was the house where I was born, and grew up in until almost age 8 when my family left Italy to travel to the US. It belonged to my mother and father. They bought the house from Momma’s parents. In the Italian tradition, parents left their houses to their daughters. The two daughters, my mother Maria and her sister Filippina, would have possession of the house and keep it in the family unless one sister would sell to the other. My mother bought her sister’s share at a time when her sister was having financial difficulty. My aunt was grateful that my mother offered to buy her share. The money my father earned was always placed directly in my mother’s hands. Mamma was frugal. She knew how to stretch a lira. She set aside a small amount from their earnings. She had saved enough to make the purchase. She paid 250,000 lire for the house. In 1939, that amount was equal to approximately $2,500 US.One day my father came home from a long day working at the annual carnival miles away from home. He was the only photographer in the region. He photographed couples, children, even priests and nuns. He would travel on his bicycle, sometimes 80 miles, to bordering towns to set up his camera equipment at the fiera annuale. Each day, when he came home, he gave my mother the day’s earnings, as usual.

She sat him down as if something very important was going to be said and told him that the house now belonged to them. She showed him the deed. He got very excited! He jumped up and said, “Maria, you made me the happiest man alive. How did you do it?”

Every time Mamma told the story, she would get very animated and you could see from her face how much love she had for my papa. She spoke about how he picked her up and swung her in the air and twirled her around. My mom was almost five feet tall, if that, and my father was almost six feet tall. She felt like she was on top of the world. The way he lifted her, as she told it, was as if she was crowned queen. He placed her on that pedestal that women crave. She felt his love, his respect, his devotion and affection in one fell swoop. She told me that she felt so much love from her husband that day that nothing could compare to it. I can still hear her tell that story. Any of my sisters or brother will tell you this story in the exact same way.

My grandfather, Vincenzo, was a gentle soul. He spoke softly. He seemed very tall to me. He had white hair, blue eyes and was light skinned like my Mamma. He taught me how to count in English. He had been to America, but frowned upon any one of his immediate family members moving there, because of the hardship he endured. He knew that no matter what he said, someday, we would follow in his footsteps.

In Roggiano Gravina everyone knew each other. Everyone told ghost stories, even my father. They called him Maestro Angiolino. He served in the Italian army during World War II as bandleader for his battalion in Tripoli. Even though my father had made a name for himself as the only photographer, and the only music teacher of his time, in this small village, he wanted to journey to America to make a better life for his family.

My uncle Salvatore, my father’s brother, was a successful man in America, or so we thought. Uncle Sal was one of the reasons why my father left Italy for Philadelphia. As it turned out, Uncle Sal was a cabinetmaker foreman, and had a house with a white picket fence in an Irish neighborhood, much like everyone else on the block. When papa left for the US, we missed his ghost stories. That’s when my grandfather took over and embellished on the scariest of stories, especially when told in the dimness of night.

I wanted to stay up and listen to all of them and hear every small detail. I did not want him to skip a beat. Nonno did not like interruptions, and so he commanded a silent audience.

One night in front of the fire when I would not listen to my mother’s request to go to bed, my slumber took over. Slowly but surely as I was sitting straight up in my chair, I fell right into the fire, palms up, into the burning hot coal. The palms of my small hands were severely burned. The pain was excruciating. It felt like a million stab wounds. The skin was charred and ready to fall off. My screams woke everyone out of their sleep.

My mother, our neighbors, and even my Zia Mara, heard my screams and rushed right over. Auntie lived two houses away. No sooner did she show up, than she ran right back out to pluck several large leaves from a nearby large plant called cento nervi, which means one hundred nerves. She dampened and placed these large green leaves over my palms.

She knew immediately what to do. She wrapped my hands with gauze to keep the leaves in place and told me to be still. Mamma brewed a cup of chamomile tea to calm me down. Shosha Annita, our next door neighbor sat with me to make sure I was OK. She was like a mother to all of us. The very next day the burning was gone, and so was the pain. No scars were left on either palm.

From that point on, Nonno was not going to allow me to stay up late. He liked having an audience, but had to modify his schedule … and mine. Needless to say I was sadly disappointed.

The next four days sees me bringing together two of my favorite topics, feng shui and ghost-busting. Author, Anna Maria Prezio is visiting us. Today, we get to meet Anna Maria and take a look at her book, Confessions of a Feng Shui Ghostbuster. Tomorrow I will share an excerpt from the book and Sunday I'd like everyone to join me as I talk with Anna Maria Prezio. On Monday, I'll share with you my impressions and review of Confessions of a Feng Shui Ghostbuster. Please visit often and I know Anna Maria would love to hear your comments!

Confessions of a Feng Shui Ghost-Buster is the result of a lifelong journey that begins in a tiny village in Italy and has yet to truly end. To help you understand this journey – and benefit from the lessons learned along the way – the book is divided into three parts.

Part I will capture your attention with a ghostly first experience of an intuitive and vulnerable 6 year-old child. The culture and experiences of the author growing up in a rural and mystical village in Italy where ghostly occurrences and stories were part of every day life serve to set the stage for what would be a life long study of the mystical and the Divine.

Part II describes Feng Shui, like medicine, as both an art and a science. Here, the definitions and different sects of Feng Shui are discussed to provide a backdrop for the connection between environmental balance and the appearance of ghosts. You will learn how mastery of Feng Shui helps us to understand the occult, or hidden knowledge, as it applies to all aspects of our life here on earth.

With the formation of a solid foundation and understanding of this art and science, Part III delves deeper into the correlation between environment and entities with ideas, cures and stories about ghost-busting as a result the author’s direct and extraordinary experience.

This book – part memoir, part guide – promises to intrigue you from cover to cover. However, the price of admission to this world is an open mind. In return, you will not only better understand yourself, but the metaphysical world in which you live.

*****

Anna Maria Prezio, is a professional Feng Shui Consultant and Practitioner with an advanced graduate certification from the American Feng Shui Institute, Chinese Metaphysical Studies, and the Imperial School of Feng Shui.

She has a Bachelor of Arts degree in communications from Villanova University as well as a Business Graduate Degree. Her expertise is in the communication arts, visual arts and entrepreneurship. She is a certified entrepreneurship instructor for the Executive Entrepreneur Institute and has held positions as a marketing executive for multinational corporations.

As a marketing consultant in health care, entertainment, and the non-profit sectors she has incorporated her knowledge of Feng Shui and its effects on personal environments to enhance people’s lives. Ms. Prezio’s mission is to help people gain the knowledge and tools of Feng Shui to improve and enhance their wealth, health, creativity and relationships.

Ms. Prezio is a writer. She has published screenplays, articles and books. Her love for the visual arts has led her to produce feature films, film shorts, music videos, and photography. Her experience, Feng Shui knowledge and highly intuitive talent gives her the ability to sense people, places and things which help to nurture and facilitate her clients’ lifestyles.

For more information on Anna Maria Prezio and Confessions of a Feng Shui Ghostbuster, please visit http://www.fengshuiharmony.net/ and please come back tomorrow when we take a look inside this book!

For the reading of Bobby’s will, the attorneys sat Vanessa – the ex, Roberta (Bobby and Vanessa’s daughter), and me in a conference room together. I was instructed to bring a lawyer, as were the other two ladies. I didn’t. That sort of thing isn’t in me. Vanessa did. The lawyer read Bobby’s will. It was pretty much as I expected. I got the house we shared, most of the money accounts, Roberta received two hundred thousand dollars in a fund her father had set aside for her upon his death. Then, the lawyer read further. Bobby did something none of us expected. He gave me half the interest in the diner and Vanessa, the other half! Just like Bobby to be equitable. Finally, the lawyer read a statement Bobby had hand-written before he died. The note said something about his guilt for leaving Vanessa, but his great love for me, about Vanessa’s interest of nearly half her life spent building the diner, and my creativity to keep it going.

Have you ever heard the term ‘livid’ before? Well, Vanessa’s face turned every shade of livid I’ve ever seen. I remember sitting there and imagining her head filling up like one of those water balloons at the fair and exploding right off her shoulders. Her lawyer patted her hand and told her “not to worry”. I giggled to myself at the mess of it all, said my “thank yous” and “goodbyes” to his former family and the lawyers, and I left feeling pretty good too considering what had just happened. Financially, I was solid and didn’t need to worry about money for a while, anyway. I closed the diner for three weeks.

When I went back to re-open, Vanessa was there waiting outside the door. She offered to buy my interest. I told her I had no intention of selling and offered to buy hers. She fumed at my boldness and told me she’d never sell. Bobby knew I was stubborn as a mule in a blizzard and he knew his former wife had some of my same shortcomings.

“Well, isn’t this a fine mess.” Vanessa threw her hands up and when they came down, they landed on her lap as she sat hard against the window’s ledge. “Guess Bobby had the last laugh, huh?” I looked out onto the day with one hand protecting my face from the bright sun. It was early spring then and the cacti were putting on a show that would embarrass the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, gorgeous.

“Since this place is now legally half mine, I want a key.” Vanessa was indignant.

“Fine. After José gets here, I’ll have him run up to Charlie’s to get his copied.” Vanessa let out a small huff and stood back up. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Well, the diner needs managing. I guess we manage it.”

“Together?” She put her hands on her hips.

“What else can we do?”

“It just won’t work.”

“Why is that, Vanessa? After all these years, do you still hate me so much?”

“Oh, hell, I could care less about you.” She turned away and looked out over the burgeoning desert. “How’s this gonna look to the folks around here? Did you ever think about that?”

“I just put my husband in the ground. I guess I haven’t had too much time to worry about what people are thinking.”

“He was my husband too.” She scowled when she looked at me. I couldn’t very well argue her point and decided by the look of her, saying nothing was best. Vanessa turned her head away. “Fuck.” She spoke it like a tire going flat. We looked at each other for a few seconds. I’d been sitting on the planter outside the door across from Vanessa the whole time and my ass felt numb, so I stood. Face-to-face with her, it was uncanny how much Vanessa and I looked like each other. She was older, of course, and had severely short, dark copper-colored hair. Her eyes were almond-shaped and emerald green, like mine. She was tall and had some meat to her, like me. Her skin was radiant pink with freckles. Here, standing in front of me, was the only other woman Bobby had ever loved. We stared into each other’s eyes. I can only guess what she was thinking. The scowl on her face was worth a thousand words. Time seemed to stall out and we began to feel ill at ease.

Through it all, a strange feeling welled-up deep inside me. For the life of me, I don’t know why I did what I did at that moment. I stuck my hand out like I was making a deal.

“So, what d’ya say, partner? Shall we give her a go?” I said it emphasizing my Georgian drawl like an actor in an old western.

And, Vanessa did quite the unexpected thing. She grabbed my hand and gave it one hard shake downwards.

As we walked together toward the restaurant’s door, she shook her head in disbelief and grumbled, “Dear God, help us.”

*****

A Review

Bobby's Diner. When I read the title, I had the idea this would be another one of those books describing the everyday details of small-town America. Truthfully, I thought I'd find the book rather boring. I was completely wrong!

Susan Wingate has created a unique situation with this novel, bringing together two unlikely women--an ex-wife and the woman who stole her husband--and placing them in a situation where they have to deal with each other on a daily basis. As the new co-owners of Bobby's Diner, these women must learn to work together or give up--and both are too stubborn to give up. Adding in a scalaway bent on taking over the diner, and the situation gets even more intense.

Moments of humor mix with deep emotions in this book. Susan Wingate shows an understanding of human nature well beyond what is normally seen in a novel. She has a mastery of dialogue that I find refreshing--I felt as though I was right there, listening. It isn't often I find dialogue so true-to-life. Between her mastery of dialogue and understanding of human nature, Susan Wingate held me captive with this book.

Can these women come to terms with past hurts? Can they work together to save Bobby's Diner from dying? Is it possible for these women to understand that there was a reason they both earned the love of the same man? You will have to read Bobby's Diner to find out.

Give yourself several hours to read this book. You will find yourself saying "Just one more chapter" over and over again. It is one of those rare books you won't want to put down. I look forward to reading more of Ms. Wingate's work.

Stop Believing in Your Own Weakness--A Special MessageTopic: MiscellaneousStop Believing in Your Own Weakness

It is our fear of being alone and in doubt, of wanting to feel certain thatwhat we are doing is right, that compels us to seek the approval of others. So this tells us that the chief cause of why our lives so often wind up in the hands of others is not that they are superior or that the world is too strong for us, but that we don't want to face the uncertainty and aloneness we think we are too weak to bear. This is the real cause of all of our wrong relationships in life. We have been betrayed by a belief in our own weakness.

The conscious refusal to go along with what our weakness wants us to do to escape its uncertainty is what invokes and finally delivers real inner confidence. This new kind of strength gradually becomes thecornerstone of a true individual existence -- the life we've always wanted. The stakes are actually eternal -- but self-victory is ascertain as the fact that light always triumphs over darkness.

Use the following ten key lessons to help strengthen your understanding of these vital ideas. Think about them; welcome their healing insights as "lights along the way" to true self-liberation.

Special Study for Lasting Self-Possession

1. When you don't know what to do with yourself, someone will always be happy to tell you.

2. Why seek the approval of someone who doesn't even approve of himself?

3. Fawning before an angry person is like asking a rabid wolf for itsapproval.

4. The more approval you get, the more you have to have.

5. Keeping any person or circumstance in your life that demands yousurrender your right to be a whole and happy human being is wrong for everyone involved.

6. When you are out standing in a storm, don't blame the weather.

7. Real strength always follows uncovering one of the roots of weakness.

8. Don't seek yourself. Dare to be yourself.

9. If you were really doing the right thing with your life, you wouldn'tneed anyone to tell you that you were.

10. Permitting your life to be taken over by another person is like letting the waiter eat your dinner. (Vernon Howard)

No human being has any authority over you. Your life belongs to you and to you alone. No scowling face or irritated manner, no challenging posture or threatening tone, has any power to make you feel nervous or anxious, frightened or angry. Your true nature answers to no one. This is a fact, and anyone who is tired of letting someone else tell them how to feel can use this self-liberating principle to win true and lasting independence. -- Guy Finley

In three words? Weird, funny and helpful. Usually, when I say something, people give me that doggy-head-tilt-look, like "what?" Scooby-doo does it best. So, I think they think I'm a bit off-kilter. Oh well.

3. Please tell us what you are most passionate about outside of writing.

My animals. I love my animals. My husband too, Bob, he's a doll. He puts up with all my animals!

4. Do you have any pets? If so, introduce us to them.

We have two lovely dogs, Robert and Rocky. Robert is a Westie and Rocky is a Cocker. Robert is white and Rocky is black. They are the outnumbered kids in our household. We have fifteen cats - Winky, Pinky, Twinkle, Serena, Raspberry Jam, PNut Butter, Apricot Jelly, Vincent, Tabatha, Marmalade, Midnight, Audrey, Marilyn, Sinatra and Humphrey. We also have about twenty-five birds. I'm not listing their names. Suffice to say, they are sweet and love it when I sing to them.

5. What is your most precious memory?

Being with my father when he died.

6. What is your most embarrassing memory?

Showing up at school naked. Oh wait, that was just a dream. Phew! Good lord, there are so many embarrassing moments - I'll have to just grab one out of the hat. Okay, here it goes... I was dancing in this show, a glitzy nightclub act, and someone spilled a drink on the stage in the exact spot I was supposed to do a full-on leg extension - a high-over-the-head kick. Needless to say, I slipped and fell right on my bum in front of about 200 people. That was pretty embarrassing as I recall.

7. If you weren't a writer, what would you be doing with your life?

Eating. I have no idea. I'm certain that I'm completely unemployable at this stage of my life, what, with the looks I get when I speak and all. I really don't know what I'd be doing. Maybe I'd still be an accountant. I was once an accountant long ago in a land far, far away in another galaxy.

8. In two paragraphs or less write your obituary.

It's funny you should have this in here. My husband thinks I'm crazy because I've been planning my own funeral for about six months now. I want to have the perfect party so that people just kind of forget why they're there. So, it's going to be fabulous. I'll put you on the guest list. Okay, here's my obit:

Susan Wingate, leaves this world for the great beyond at age eighty-eight. She also leaves many cat boxes behind. She is survived by Tweedle and Dee and Tweedle and Dum, her twin cats and twin dogs. And, we mustn't forget Tweedy the cockatiel. Because of her illustrious writing career, her country home (on Peter Pond) is set to be transformed into a writers' colony. Only animal-lovers need apply. They have much work to doo doo.

Susan will be remembered as a writer who wrote, strangely enough, stranger than fiction not to mention one who put words into other people's mouths with her many plays and scripts. Her agent, who will remain nameless, stated, "I have an empty spot in my heart and an empty slot on my client list." Services will be held in Phoenix and Friday Harbor - red wine and ashes will be served.

Susan Wingate The Writer:

9. Can you describe the time you realized you were indeed a "real" writer?

It was the year my father died. He was a writer and part of me feels like his soul passed through my body on his way to Heaven.

10. What is going on with your writing these days?

Tons. My second novel, "Bobby's Diner," was released on September 1, 2008. I'm very busy with its eTour but also, I've begun my fourth novel and hopefully will sell my third novel within the next couple of months. I'm a feature writer for the AZ Authors Association newsletter and a contributing writer to the emagazine Literary Magic, to mention a couple of sidelines. I'm working on a two screenplays and I hope to write another play for the theatre in the near future. I'm teaching three weekly writing classes this September and four weekly classes starting in April 2009 that will repeat quarterly.

11. What are your future goals for your writing?

To keep writing novels, primarily. I love to teach so I hope to spend more time at writer's conferences giving presentations.

12. Can you describe a typical writing day for you?

First, I answer my emails and if I'm into a story, I'll edit in the morning and write new material after that. If I'm in-between books, I usually do a lot of self-promotion and publicity. You hear how agents and publishers want to be able to pick up a writer with a platform, well, that's what I work on. I try to increase my reader base, get speaking and teaching jobs, write magazine articles, and write short stories, poems and plays. But, generally, I spend anywhere from ten to twelve hours a day working.

13. Why do you write?

There's nothing else I want to do. I used to love to cook and play around with decorating the house - all creative outlets. But, once I landed on the writing, it was all over. I never looked back and don't regret one day of the heartache and frustration that is inherent to this job.

14. What writer most inspires you? Why?

Jeez! There are so many great writers out there. But, I'd have to say, right now, at this point in my life, I love W. Somerset Maugham. His writing goes to the core of human emotion. I love his conflict - it's never bombs blazing or cars crashing - that surface stuff. His conflict is universal and gut-wrenching, like leaving your family in search of a dream, like taking your spouse into a plague to stop her from cheating, like a little deformed boy losing his mother at age eight and being placed in the home of a cruel uncle. Maugham uses heart-breaking themes that are very plausible.

15. How do you define your writing?

My writing seems to bounce back-and-forth between mainstream and women's fiction. "Bobby's Diner" is what I would categorize as women's fiction but my third novel would be better categorized as mainstream. The themes found in each of my three novels describe that special brand of conflict that arises between a woman and her mother. I think this is a very universal theme, one in which half the people of the world - the women - can relate to.

16. In one sentence-what do you want people to say about your writing in fifty years?

She was a great storyteller.

Susan Wingate The Details:

17. Can you tell us where to find more information on you? Website? Blog?

Yes! My website is at http://www.susanwingate.com/ and my blog is http://www.susanwingate.blogspot.com/. I also have information posted on Poets & Writers, Romance Writers of America, Pacific Northwest Writer's Association, Author's Den, Authors & Experts, MySpace and FaceBook, Xing, Ning and a few others that I can't remember now.

18. Is there a place where readers can reach you?

Yes. They can contact me from any of the above location. It's always nice to hear from people.

19. Can you list all your book titles so people can look for them?

My first book is a compilation entitled, "Ravings of a Mad Gentlewoman" and it's available through Lulu.com. My second book is my first novel, "Of the Law." You can get "Of the Law" at http://www.ofthelaw.com/ or through Amazon.com. My third book and second novel is called "Bobby's Diner." You can get "Bobby's Diner" through the publisher, ebooksonthe.net (http://www.ebooksonthe.net/), or at the following: Mobipocket, Amazon.com or FictionWise. Oh, you can also get "Bobby's Diner" by connecting through my website at www.susanwingate.com/bobbysdiner.htm.

20. For new readers-what can they expect when they read your book(s)?

Well, I hope I've created believable characters, detailed settings and juicy conflict. Some people have described my work as gritty and honest.

In conclusion:

21. Take as much space as necessary to speak to our readers-what would you like them to know about you and your writing?

Writing is my passion. Reading is my passion. Writers make me smile. I love meeting other writers because we're an odd group and it's nice to sit and talk with others of the same cloth - it kind of feels like experiential therapy!

Thank you, Joyce, for allowing me this time to visit with you. -Sincerely, Susan Wingate.